


until the sun hides

by everyeveryminute



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:27:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27770737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyeveryminute/pseuds/everyeveryminute
Summary: There are the things we say out loud. There are the things we say quietly to ourselves. And the things that never make a sound, never leave our lips. The things we hold in our hearts. We hold them out of fear, or some emotion that we just can’t seem to put our finger on. Something holds us back from saying what we feel, what we really mean. And it doesn’t really matter, does it? If it was important enough, we would say it. Scream it. But then all of a sudden it is too late. The words die somewhere within. Never making it out into the world, never manifesting into truth. And they were important. My god were they important. And now they’ll never be said.Destiel is endgame fix-it one shot.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 20





	until the sun hides

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops, I haven't written or posted anything since like 2017 and have actually never written for Supernatural. But the show is over and I am back in 110%, so here you go! 
> 
> A fix-it post 15x18. Because Destiel is real. And Dean loves Cas back. Thank you and goodnight.

There are the things we say out loud. There are the things we say quietly to ourselves. And the things that never make a sound, never leave our lips. The things we hold in our hearts. We hold them out of fear, or some emotion that we just can’t seem to put our finger on. Something holds us back from saying what we feel, what we really mean. And it doesn’t really matter, does it? If it was important enough, we would say it. Scream it. But then all of a sudden it is too late. The words die somewhere within. Never making it out into the world, never manifesting into truth. And they were important. My god were they important. And now they’ll never be said. 

* * *

The world felt more empty than before. His world had felt empty before. So many times. A hollowness had made its home in his body more times than he could count. But this one felt different. This one settled in his chest and radiated throughout him. His body was heavy and weightless all at once. The emotions fought their way to the surface. He let himself cry in that room. But only there. Where it was safe. Safe from a world that would never understand what he had just lost. 

He did not even understand what he lost. 

Emotions were weak. And he would be weak in that moment only because he knew that it would eventually bubble over into anger. Anger. The only emotion he understood. The only emotion he allowed himself to feel without shame. He could be pissed. Irate. Furious. Punch a wall. Fire a gun. Destroy everything around him. Destroy himself. The anger would come. He just had to wait for it to come and consume him, wash away the empty in him. 

But it never did. The hollow never disappeared. His walls were never punched. His gun lay unfired. Not a single item was disturbed around him. It didn’t make sense to him. The freezing cold numbness clung to him and would not let go for the burning anger to take control. So he sat with it. Let it make a home within him. He became cold. This was how he survived. Frozen. Frozen in an emotion he could not name. He wasn’t angry, but dammit he should be. It would feel so much better. Instead, he was… sad, no that wasn’t right either. It was worse than sad. It was all-encompassing. It flowed through him like ice through his veins that not even the burn of whiskey could warm. And so he stared at the wall and tried to make sense of the world he found himself in now. 

A world without _him_. 

He didn’t dream. But sometimes he fell asleep to memories. A soft smile imprinted on his lips. It felt good to remember. Even if the memories were surrounded by what he wished he could forget. He had mastered the art of ignoring the background noise to focus on _him_ . The past encircled him, but he didn’t hear or see a thing. The memory was a wrinkle beside _his_ eye, a twitch of _his_ lips that no one noticed except him, a furrow of a brow, that one eyelash that graced _his_ cheek… in his memory, he created a world where he reached out and ever so lightly removed the offending lash and those eyes would focus on him and a silence would settle between them. A soft and familiar silence. How many silences had enveloped them over the years? Maybe a hundred, probably more. He thought that so many people spoke too much, they couldn’t live in easy silence. He could. He had, lived in silence for his whole life. He knew that sometimes saying nothing said more than any words he could stumble his way through. But now the silence had taken everything from him. And he was alone. With his memories. 

Memories that he could make his own. And he did. He remembered sunny days and cool evenings. He remembered the rain on the Impala’s windows making a pattern across _his_ face. The music was low. His thumb kept the beat absentmindedly. _“This was on our mixtape.”_ He looked over and smiled, his stomach and heart fluttered at the casual way the word ‘our’ slipped into the sentence. But he pretended it didn’t. Because it shouldn’t have. And he felt alone in that moment. Alone with his own secret. If he could go back, he would have changed that moment. Pulled over the car and turned to face _him_ and only hope to fight against his alone. Maybe the words would have come out right. And maybe his secret would no longer be his alone and he would have company to fight against his mind and demons, real or imagined. But he wouldn’t have said it right. It would start out right in his head but by the time it would have reached his lips, it would be jumbled and all wrong. 

Even as _he_ stood in front of him, giving him the space to free himself, he couldn’t do it. He had too much to say. He opened his mouth wishing that a thousand words would fall out into love. He closed his mouth again as nothing came. There was too much to say and not enough to say all at the same time. And for some reason, all he could do was watch. And sit in his own empty as the words finally came. And the numb took over, leaving him to hold his words even deeper inside of him. They lived in his bones. They made up his entire soul. The only words that he ever needed to say out loud again remained alone. Just like him. And he laid alone and created a new memory. In that room again. This time with his words. Every night they were different. But every night his memory released what he had held back for too long. 

Until they could no longer just live in memory. 

He knew he wasn’t good with words or the best at expressing himself. Not when it really mattered. And it was maybe the only time in his life that it really truly mattered. And all he could do was stand there. But now he had the words. All of them. There were a million silences held between them that he needed to fill. Finally. So he spoke to _him_. He spoke into the void, knowing that he was the only one who heard. But at least the words he had held inside for so long were escaping. And they tumbled out of him every night. Being released into a world that felt completely empty. 

And so he went through the motions of his life. A life that did not make sense anymore. A life that was missing just one singular thing. He smiled when he had to. But if anyone looked close enough, they would see it wasn’t real. But no one looked close enough. The only person who would have ever noticed wasn’t there to see. He was left behind. Maybe that was what the pain was. Not in being alone. But being left behind. 

He could have found another way. There had to be another way. There always is another way. Some other path to fix what he had screwed up yet again. But he didn’t have time to fix it this time. And sometimes he woke up to the pounding door. The pounds against the door, pounding against his skull. His heart beat too fast and his throat burned, like he was screaming or holding back a sob that threatened to ruin him. Most likely both. He would look around and realize he was alone. A wave of calm settled over him until the alone felt all-encompassing and he held his head in his hands again. “I’m sorry.” 

He apologized almost nightly. It never made him feel better. 

In the morning the sun felt too bright. The world too happy. And it normally would have made him angry. But he realized that he didn’t have the energy for anger anymore. It no longer made sense to him. It never achieved anything. He could be angry. But he would still be alone. And so he lived in a cycle. Awake to a world that had moved on. Live a life he had no interest in. Waiting until he could finally excuse himself to the darkness and the world he created for himself. The world that still included _him._ The world where his body was not hollow, but holy. Sanctified by the grace of finally being seen, being understood, and being loved. Being loved by someone who saw all of him and loved him because of it and not in spite of it. And to love someone back the same way. There in the darkness, he lived his own happiness. A happiness he knew he didn’t deserve. 

That night he fell asleep. A faint smile that was now so familiar on his perfect lips. This night he dreamt. He saw the world he had created. And it felt so real. And his body felt warm and whole. Not a piece of him was missing. Probably for the first time in his life. Love surrounded him and he told himself he deserved this. It was alright. It was okay. He could accept this love. He was worthy of being held. Worthy of being seen. Worthy of being loved unconditionally. He could love someone back the way they wanted to be, the way they deserved to be. He wouldn’t fail. He wouldn’t fall short. The hand in his was perfect. And there were no more silences. Every word that needed to be said was said. Nothing hung in the air, nothing burned in his throat, nothing was buried deep within. 

The pounding door didn’t wake him up that night. For once he woke up on his own. Yet this morning was so much worse than before. Because he woke up alone. More alone than ever before. There was no hand in his. No tousled hair beside him. No heart that beat in time to his. Just an empty bed. And an empty heart. He threw the blankets off of him and his bare feet touched the floor. 

_“Hello, Dean.”_

He stood up and started toward the door. 

_“Dean.”_

He stopped. He turned. He wasn’t alone. 

A million things ran through his mind at once. And yet again he was frozen. Unable to move or say a word. 

_“I’m glad to see you too.”_

A laugh escaped from his mouth at the same time as tears began to fall. “You son of a bitch.” And suddenly he was in front of _him_ reaching out for _him_ . And they were in each other’s arms. And he felt whole again. The hollow in his chest gave way to a warmth he never felt in his life. A warmth of acceptance and love. A warmth of _home._ He pulled away first, only because he wanted to see _his_ face. Really look at _him_ . Make sure everything was in place and real. And he was real. So real. He touched _him_. “Cas.” 

_“I’m sorry.”_

The thumb that was rubbing Castiel’s cheek stopped abruptly. “What are you apologizing for.” The angel shrugged. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. I...I’m sorry Cas. I’m so damn sorry.” 

_“I know.”_

“I… I have so much to tell you.” 

_“I know.”_

“While you were gone I thought about everything I should have said. I needed to say. I’m sorry I didn’t say it.” 

_“Dean. I know.”_

“What do you mean?” 

_“I heard you. I heard you every night. I know. Everything.”_

“Cas…” 

_“I love you too Dean.”_

“Dammit, Cas. Let me say it. All these years. Just let me say it. Please.” Cas nodded. 

“I love you Cas. And I always have. Of course, I do. And it’s obvious. I know. But damn. It’s good to say it.” They both laughed. A laugh that was more of an exhale. Their foreheads touching. And they both knew things were going to be okay. For once. They could exhale together and not worry. No more end of the worlds. Just them. Together. And everything was alright. And everything was okay. And the world was right and whole. And so were they. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! And thank you for ignoring how rusty and clunky my writing is! I appreciate it so much! 
> 
> I wrote this as more of a cathartic piece for myself (exposing myself as a dean girl because of our similar trauma!) and wanting to remind myself that people like Dean are worthy of love and will find it one day! And rusty nails will not stand in our way! 
> 
> Find me over on tumblr at crypticdean. Come say hi!


End file.
